


Blame

by ottermo



Series: As Prompted [1]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Death, Funerals, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt challenge on tumblr. </p><p>  <em>"I just don’t understand how she could do it. When you were all she had left."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to tempt my muse back into being by writing some Humans oneshots over on tumblr ~ hit up my ask box on @wellamarke, if you feel so inclined! This came from prompt #31, "blame me", of a list of 50, but to be honest we're at the point now where you can just put any old prompt and I will make some attempt to write it, haha. 
> 
> Anyway, before these notes get longer than the thing itself, I give you--

Mattie picks at a stray white cotton that has found its way onto her black dress, and sniffs, haughtily. “That was a load of crap,” she remarks. Her footsteps crunch into the loose gravel path that runs through the churchyard. People are still spilling out of the church in dribs and drabs, and she eyes each passer-by with disdain. “About her being all nice and a ‘valued member of the community’. Obviously didn’t really know her.” 

Her mother, dry-eyed since the day of the phonecall, hums slightly and signals for Mattie to keep her voice down. “Shusssh. Just pretend to be respectful ‘til we get to the car.” 

Mattie shrugs off the hands Laura extends to her before it even touches her. “No. I don’t see why I should. She was a fucking  _terrible_  mother, and she still gets talked about like she was some kind of saint. What’s even the  _point_  of funerals, if—” 

“She meant something to these people, Mats, even if she wasn’t…even if she didn’t… She wasn’t a  _monster_.” Her mother’s voice is low and calm, and Mattie can’t see how, can’t connect to it. “She lost her little boy. More and more, I’m getting to understand why it made her—how she was.”

“You mean, now that she’s gone, you can forgive her, ’cause she can’t hurt you anymore,” Mattie counters. “Is that it?” 

Laura doesn’t reply, and in the silence Mattie finds her throat tightening. It has always fascinated her how a voice, even her own, can  _sound_  like tears. “I just don’t understand how she could do it. When you were all she had left.” 

This time Mattie doesn’t shy away from Laura’s touch, and she wraps one arm around her daughter’s cardiganed shoulders as they near the carpark. “I think it’s…not something you _can_ understand. Losing someone, I mean. I think your brain just sort of—stops. And looks for somewhere to put the things it can’t deal with. You don’t really get to choose where it goes.” Laura pauses, sighs. “And the only person she could find to blame was me. I’m not saying it was right. I’m saying it was—like you said. I was all that was left.” 

Mattie leans her head against Laura’s, even though their gait jars her neck a little with every step. “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t think I’m very good at funerals.”

Laura smiles. “Well, you can’t be good at everything, sweetheart.” 

They reach the car, and wait for Toby and Joe to amble along behind them. Toby’s eyes are red, and Mattie pretends not to see. 

“Home?” asks her father. 

Her mother nods. Her eyes are far away. 


End file.
